


Anything Hurts Less

by writingramblr



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Changing Tenses, Fluff and Smut, Gellert Grindelwald Never Impersonated Percival Graves, M/M, Mute!Credence, Muteness, Obscurial Credence Barebone, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, Playing with Canon, Pre-Canon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, mainly slow build, minor smut, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 00:43:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10628601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: ....than the quiet.[Mute!Credence encounters Graves, and our favorite Director finds himself enamoured]





	

**Author's Note:**

> filling my own prompt yo  
> http://sozdanie-gryazi-eternal.tumblr.com/post/159556312895
> 
>  
> 
> percysweetheart also did a fill and its very cute, from credence's POV.

Percival stood outside to smoke, to read the paper, and to indulge in his bad habits, save for one, right before lunch. He won’t take his coffee irish before Friday. The rain didn’t disturb him, as he just needed to cast a deflection charm along with his fairly strong  _ notice-me-not  _ considering the group of second salemers that were right across the street, shrilly trying to convince passersby to take a flier and attend a meeting.

Well, it was actually only the mother who was being loud. The next eldest girl merely smiled creepily and chirped “Won't you take a flier?” occasionally while the littlest girl gave a rare earnest expression, her youth not yet tainted by hatred. 

But it was the silent dark haired boy who caught his eye, only because of two very important things, he's not speaking, merely shakily holding out a hand with a leaflet, and he had been looking right at Percival.

There could be no mistake.

He finished his cigarette and dropped it to the ground, grinding it to embers beneath his heel, before returning to reading his paper, stealing glances over at the boy every so often.

Until he nearly dropped it, as the boy began to cross the street, and Percival couldn’t look away now, tempted to cast a shield charm to keep the cars from getting too close, but there was no need.

He was right there, eyes locked onto Percival’s shoes, or more likely, the ground, soaked, for even though it’s misting, who knows how long the boy has been standing outside with no protection from the elements.

“How can you see me?”

He checked. The charm sure felt like it was still there, and it  _ was _ . Because other no-majs move past without so much as a hint of knowledge that he’s standing in front of the magnificent Woolworth building. He’s not exactly dressed like a doorman though.

The boy stayed quiet, and merely clutched his fliers like they’re a lifeline, as his eyes rose up from Percival’s shoes only to widen with unmistakable fear.

“I’m not angry, just uh, confused.”

He tried again, and the boy bit his lip, before lifting a hand to tap his throat, and then shake his head.

Percival swallowed, mind racing,

“You have a cold? You lost your voice?”

Another shake of the head, more insistent tapping, before a gesture of null, a finger across his neck.

Percival understood him, the second after, he notices red marks on the back of his hand.

“Hey, hey let me see that.”

The boy must think he meant the flier, because he extended it once more, his hand less shaky now.

Percival took it, then plucked the paper away, tossing it aside carelessly, ignoring the boy’s gasp,  _ ‘so he can make audible sounds,’ _ he thought to himself, before curling his fingers around the delicate wrist, and flipping his hand over atop his own broader palm.

He winced and cursed under his breath, and he felt just how deeply the boy has been chilled by the damp, as his body warmth seeps into the boy’s skin slightly.

There are a half dozen cuts on his palm, some still oozing clear fluid, while the back of his hand has at least healed enough not to bleed.

“Who did this to you?”

His eyes flickered up to the boy’s own, dark and liquid, and he shook his head, trying to pull his hand away, but Percival bore down, putting his other hand over the boy’s, using wandless and wordless magic to do his best to ease the pain and stop the bleeding.

Another gasp, more strangled and shocked than the first escaped the boy, and he stopped squirming under Percival’s hands.

“There. Now… it’s a bit of an issue I admit, the communication barrier. I need to ensure you aren’t going to be a problem with the law…”

He trailed off, watching as the boy, despite no longer shivering or shaking and trying to hide his hands, shook his head, and tried again to retreat.

“Hey, you came to me. You can see me. That is an issue. Come on, it’s almost my lunchtime anyway. Are you hungry?”

The boy licked his lips, perhaps before he can stop himself, and gave him the tiniest of nods.

“I figured. You look as if you haven’t eaten in days.”

 

* * *

He used a drying charm on the boy’s clothing, and he doesn’t think that he notices, though his immune system will thank him later. Considering how skinny and underfed he looks, it’s a wonder he wasn’t already coughing and sniffling.

Percival considered charming his drink or adding a few drops of Pepperup Potion, though he has only a vial on hand, but then there was a finger tapping the back of his wrist, yanking him from his thoughts, as he tried to take a forkful of the wonderful garlic mashed potatoes, and he glances over to find the boy shaking his head at the notepad and pencil he’d conjured up, pulled out of his jacket and pretended he’d had all along.

“What?”

Another shake, and then he doodles on the pad.

“Can’t you write?”

A shrug, and a blink.

Never learned.

Well, that made things difficult.

“Would you like me to teach you?”

A nod.

The boy has barely touched his food, but there’s definitely a few bites missing from the grilled cheese, and the hot cocoa was finished.

He’s considering how long he can stretch his lunch, before deciding to just send a patronus and inform Picquery that he’s rescheduling the briefing for tomorrow.

Sending off his silver panther takes a moment, and he turns to find the boy goggling at him, jaw slack, and eyes wide, again. At least he’s not on the verge of tears now.

“Uh, yes. So, magic. I need to talk to you to ask how you know about magic, how you’re able to see me… through my shield that’s supposed to make me impossible to see.”

He sighed, and the boy shivered slightly, before scribbling, a circle with many lines, and then a line through the middle.

A universal symbol for ‘no.’

Percival licked his lips and tried again,

“Yes, I know. Magic is evil, all that. But… the truth is, things are not always black and white. Do you understand?”

The boy nods, minutely.

“Okay. so. The basics.”   
He sketched out a rough alphabet, unused to writing with no-maj implements like pencils over quills and fountain pens.

The boy watches, enraptured, until he stops, and begins to point to each letter, sounding it out, and the boy blinks.

“Now you try.”

He holds the pencil out, and ignores the way the boy’s hand trembles before he takes it, fingers grazing Percival’s, warmth bleeding into him.

The boy now longer shivers from cold. Good.

His attempts to copy the alphabet are rough, they remind him of his healers signature on his hospital release, from when he had his appendix out in his final year at Ilvermorny. He’d been laughed at, but it had been a strange infection from something he ate at a MACUSA event for future Aurors.

“Okay. Hello, goodbye, my name is… uh, those are the easy things. My name is Percival. What is yours?”

He’s writing as he speaks, and he points to each word in turn, knowing that he’s really jumping far too far ahead than he should, for simple reading and writing lessons, but he’s running out of time for the day, and he needs to learn the boy’s name.

Tina gave him a minimal report about the Second Salemers, and only mentioned three children the horrible woman was sheltering. No names.

“...”

The boy looks conflicted, but scrunches his face and then scribbles a clump of letters. It’s written right below Percival’s scrawl.

He makes out ‘ _ C r e d e n c e’  _ and he’s smiling before he can stop himself, holding out a hand, over the empty dishes from his own lunch.

“Wonderful to make your acquaintance.”

The boy doesn’t exactly smile back, but he no longer looks fearful, and his grip back on his hand was firm.

“I must get back to work, but you stay as long as you like, finish your food, please. Take this, and I’ll take these.”

He scoops up the stack of damp leaflets, and tucks them into his jacket, before withdrawing his hand again with a wad of no-maj money, seeing the boy’s eyes widen once more.

The numbers make little sense to him, but he presses them into the boy’s hand, and closes his fingers around them.

“Have a good afternoon, my boy.”

He waits until he’s outside, and then checks back through the window, seeing the boy holding the money still, as if he’s never seen such a thing in his life.

He sighs. Tina better be back from her own lunch by now.

 

* * *

 

He told Tina where he’d been, that he’d been checking up on the second salemites, taking over so that she would have less to worry about, and would she please take over when the Ministry sent over their delegation? He merely had to nudge Picquery, and she gave in, allowing Tina to fill in, since he was working on something key and important, possibly averting a crisis, a breach of the statute of secrecy.

Not that he could really explain what that even meant if pressed, nor did he know how much longer he would be able to keep taking long lunches.

Credence had almost mastered full length sentences, and it had only been a week. Surely he’d be reading more than the bible soon.

He wondered if the boy had even read his own pamphlets that he’d been handing out for weeks at a time. How many witches and wizards have brushed past, and he’s not known he’d been insulting them in print?

Percival shrugged off the thought, and continued outside, for a cigarette, and to see if he could spot the boy. As usual, he’s on a street corner, but it’s a couple blocks down, in front of the courthouse. 

Normally, he wouldn’t dare approach a no-maj building, despite a vested interest and his ability to blend in. Sometimes it just wasn’t worth the headache. Today a board display was propped up against the wall next to the stairs, announcing a town hall meeting, as many people filed past and towards the entrance, someone bumped into Credence, knocking him back, and sending papers scattering.

“Clumsy freak.”

Someone jeered at him, and Percival, who’d been indecisive about approaching, now did, stepping forward with purpose, and catching the boy’s elbow just before he fell.

“Steady now, I’ve got you.”

He flicked a hand at the man who’d been the cause of the jostling, with a minor sneezing hex, that would let up in an hour. Petty, but it would make the meeting rather unpleasant for him.

“Would your mother mind if we chatted for a moment? About the cause of course.”

His gaze wandered over to the woman, who eyed them suspiciously, before Credence nodded, and followed him away from the front of the steps.

Once the crowd blocked her line of sight, he put his hand firmly to the small of the boy’s back, and guided him towards the next street over, and the diner that was becoming a regular spot he visited, thanks to the boy.

“How’ve you been? Taking care to practice your reading?”

Credence nodded again, taking a seat across from him, wincing a little before perfectly schooling his expression back to neutral.

“What’s wrong?”

Percival saw no new injuries to the boy’s hands, palms nor backs, so he wondered how the woman could possibly be taking out her frustration on him, as the boy scribbled on the ever present notepad he provided.

_ “Nothing. I am well. How are you sir?” _

“Credence, though you are still learning to write, please don’t start the art of deception. It doesn’t suit you.”

For the first time ever, color blossomed on the boy’s pale cheeks, and his dark eyes dropped to the floor, Percival could hear the sound of his feet shuffling around, and then he sighed. Crossing through what he’d just written, he then scribbled more.

_ “My ma hit me.” _

Percival nearly snapped the pencil in half as he snatched it back.

“Where? Show me.”

Credence shook his head vigorously, and looked as if he might cut and run, judging by the way his eyes darted to the front door of the diner.

“Why not? Why do you want to continue to wear that pain? Let me help you.”

Please hung on the edge of his lips, but he couldn’t, he wouldn’t  _ beg _ to be allowed to heal the boy, not if he truly didn’t want him to.

“Credence?”

Another sigh, and the boy was reaching out, putting his hand over Percival’s, only to take the pencil back and write something down. He craned his neck to read it, and could only make out a few words.

_ “Not here.” _

He asked for the check, and had their food bagged up to go, so that they could leave easily. Percival carried the food and let Credence lead the way, but to his surprise, they only went down the road to the nearest alleyway, and he barely had a moment to question the change in location, cast a  _ notice-me-not _ charm at the mouth of the alley, before he turned to find the boy untucking his shirt, and rucking it up over his back, revealing angry red slashes on his skin.

He nearly dropped the food, and indeed, just set it on the ground to walk over and grasp one of the boy’s shoulders, where he could feel his body trembling.

“Your mother did this to you?”

Credence’s eyes were wide, and he nodded very rapidly.

“With what?”

One of the delicate long fingered hands reached out to brush over his belt, and Percival barely avoided jumping out of his skin, at the innocent touch so close to his waist.

The connection was instantaneous after that.

“She used your belt on you?”

He nodded again.

Percival drew a deep breath, mentally reciting Rappaport’s Law to keep himself there, still, lest he storm over to the courthouse and hex that infernal bitch for harming such a fragile and good hearted boy.

“I can heal these, of course. What will she say? If she sees you’re…”

He wasn’t sure how to word it, made new? Magically scar free?

Credence shrugged, as if to say it didn’t matter.

He dragged his hand from the boy’s shoulder to his face, unable to resist cupping his cheek, stepping close, leaning in to press his forehead against the boy’s, feeling how he didn’t fight that, he merely remained stock still.

“I can’t keep doing this. Healing you only to send you back to be hurt again. It’s not right.”

The boy’s cold nose nudged against his, and he swore their lips met for just a split second, before the boy was shrinking back, and shaking his head, flattening his hands over his shirt, and not bothering to tuck it back in.

Percival’s self control was in tatters,

“I don’t mean I won’t do it, don’t misunderstand me Credence. I just hate to see you like this. Always in pain. Silent as the grave.”

The boy shrugged, and Percival inhaled deeply, and knew by the height of the sun, it was past time for him to be returning to work.

“Keep the food, be careful.”

The boy nodded, jerkingly, and then picked up the bags with a crackle of paper, and shuffled away, leaving Percival alone with his thoughts.

He simply apparated outside the woolworth building, inside the bubble that would hide his sudden arrival, and then walked in, ignoring the usual chaos surrounding the lobby.

It would never be enough, healing Credence every other day, teaching him to read more and write more, if he didn’t want to actually leave his miserable home, and he had no magic to speak of, so why did he keep bothering?

Why was he risking so much for the boy?

He didn’t know.

He didn’t want to admit to himself that maybe, deep down, he  _ did _ know.

Those sharp cheekbones couldn’t have been lovelier carved from marble, and the dark eyes that so often seemed on the verge of tears were hypnotizing. Mercy Lewis, that mouth that he  _ knew _ had brushed against his even if by accident, they were haunting him. Day and night, and night and day, he was fucked.

Gone.

Hopelessly enamoured with someone he could only gaze at from afar, across streets and through windows. He needed to get a grip, and have some damn liquor.

 

* * *

 

When the prominent no-maj senator turned up dead, Percival seemed to be the only one concerned. While Picquery told him that no-maj’s killed each other almost for sport, and it wasn’t their problem, he bit his tongue. The method of death was the curious thing, and it wasn’t a typical no-maj weapon, nor an assassination. Nothing like that.

It was almost like some modified version of the killing curse, but it left the body looking like it was on the verge of shattering. But no toxins or bruises marred the body, so the no-maj authorities had been puzzled.

Eventually they’d ruled it a suicide by gunshot, and no one argued it. The senator had liked to drink and had lived alone. The next time Percival saw Credence on the street, he looked paler, if possible, and very sick.

He held himself like his back was bothering him, and Percival decided it was time, to stop pretending he was indifferent. He walked past where the boy stood on the sidewalk, snagged his arm, and turned on the spot.

Since people didn’t notice him and tended to ignore Credence, it would be like nothing had even happened. But the boy had never done such a thing, it was understandable the second they landed he fell to the floor, coughing and gasping for air.

“I apologize. That was the easiest way to get you out of there.”

Percival summoned the bottle from the kitchen full of black liquid, Pepperup Potion, a proper serving, and set it on his coffee table before reaching out to the boy with a hand, taking it as a small victory when he accepted it, and allowed himself to be pulled back to his feet.

Though he was very unsteady, and nearly fell down again, but for Percival’s arms grasping at his sides.

“Shh-hh, now, it’s all right. You’re safe now.”

Forever, if he had anything to truly say about it, but Credence’s eyes still glimmered at him as he blinked tears away. It wasn’t until the boy coughed again, a wracking awful sound that echoed around Percival’s living room that he remembered, the potion.

“Okay now, this looks awful, but I promise it’ll make you feel much better.”

Credence eyed the bottle skeptically, making him bite back a laugh, but dutifully reached for it once he pulled out the stopper.

He drank it down without a word, or sound, and merely coughed once more, as smoke poured out his ears, and a touch of color pinked his cheeks.

A healthy glow.

He smiled, just slightly, and Percival nearly lost his mind. He plucked the empty bottle out of the boy’s hands and then pulled him into his arms, hugging him tightly, mindful of possible injuries on his back.

“I’m so sorry. You must have thought I was avoiding you. I’ve been so busy with work.” _ ‘Arguing with myself about the law… you know.’ _ he added, under his breath.

“...”

Credence tapped a finger on his throat, and it was Percival’s turn to cough, somewhat awkwardly.

He summoned a notepad from the kitchen counter, and a pen, letting the boy finally get a chance to speak, in his own way.

_ ‘Sir, where are we?’ _

“Forgive me Credence. I’ve brought you to my home. It’s rather unorthodox, I know. But I need to keep an eye on you, better than I’ve been doing, and you need somewhere to stay, that doesn’t put you in danger every minute, so I figured… we could share my apartment for a couple days, at the very least. Just until you feel better.”

He didn’t mention that of course with the potion, he’d be better after a night’s rest, and that would be that.

_ ‘Am I in trouble? Aren’t you magical police?’ _

Such a clever boy, it made Percival beam to know he’d made a quick connection like that. He just barely resisted reaching out to ruffle the boy’s hair, knowing it would not be enough, one quick touch. Come to think of it, he was still standing very near, and sitting down on the couch would be much more comfortable for them both.

“In a way, I am yes. You however are not in any trouble. Not at all. I do have to ask you a few questions, purely routine.”

He smiled, and then summoned a teapot and two mugs, watching as Credence dutifully scribbled back.

_ ‘About the organization?’ _

Percival diverted his hand, about five seconds before he reached to stroke the boy’s cheek, and instead grabbed his mug, before replying.

“Not exactly, no. You see,” He withdrew his wand and placed it on the coffee table, still within reach, but more so Credence could see it, and remember, he would not need to fear it, “There’s been an incident. Something happened to a person who I believe was associated with your mo- guardian. How much do you know about her dealings with the late senator?”

A normal person might not have seen it, but Percival was no such thing. Credence’s eyes widened a touch, and his hand trembled as he steadied the pen against the paper.

_ ‘Only what I overheard. She wanted to use his father’s paper to help spread word of our cause.’ _

Percival nodded.

The Shaw empire included a very big reach of influence. Now it had been lessened, but only slightly.

Still, he knew the boy was keeping something from him, and much as it pained him, he knew he would need to resort to legilimency to know for certain what it was.

Taking the boy’s hand, he flattened it gently between both of his own, and inhaled slowly,

“Credence, I need you to-”

He’d only meant to skim the surface, to probe and be sure about which facet the boy was being obtuse about, and he accidentally became overwhelmed. Though Credence could not speak, his mind was abuzz with words, and after so much silence, it was deafening. Most prominent in the boy’s thoughts, beyond self doubt, deprecation and even deep seated loathing for his own being, was pictures of himself. Percival was almost the star of the show, and he nearly fell over himself trying to retreat, until he caught sight of a dimly lit alleyway, and a flash of bare skin.

It wasn’t a memory, for no such thing had ever happened, as he watched, hypnotized, he saw himself pressing Credence into the bricks, not unkindly, merely to get better leverage and deeper.

He fell back with a gasp, and realized he was sweating, the boy watching him with wide, fearful eyes, lips bitten red.

“Credence… forgive me, I didn’t mean…”

Though he hadn’t found what he was looking for, instead rather, he’d stumbled into an entirely different problem. He was throbbing, painfully hard in his pants, and Credence was tugging his hand back, shrinking away to the other side of the couch, turning his back on him. 

He was hiding his face in his hands, and his shoulders were shaking.

Mercy Lewis.

The boy had visions of Percival fucking him against a filthy alleyway wall, and he was feeling guilty for imagining a kiss that may or may not have been an accident?

“Hey, hey, don’t feel bad. I completely intruded where I didn’t belong…” he didn’t even know how to explain what he had done. But he had been wrong to do it.

“Credence… please.”

Words felt so useless at that point, so instead of continuing to fail, Percival got to his feet and moved around to sit at the boy’s other side, surprisingly, he didn’t retreat again, but allowed a hand to slip under his chin, and tilt his face up. His cheeks were wet with tears and his lips were looking infinitely more tempting by the moment. Percival stumbled over himself, and simply closed his own eyes, and leaned forward, letting the space between them vanish once more.

Credence met him halfway, and the sweet urgency with which he kissed told Percival what desperate words could not.

He moved his hand to cup the boy’s cheek, and only noticed something had changed about the angle when the boy crept closer, by slipping into his lap, coming in brief contact with his groin.

“Fuck.”

He broke the kiss to groan, and Credence actually looked mildly alarmed, but kept his hands rooted firmly on the sides of Percival’s lapels.

“I did not mean for this to happen, but I am quite uh, pleased with the outcome.”

He now had both of his palms splaying over the boy’s sides, and when he drew a shaky breath, Credence did the same.

“Are you okay?”

He couldn’t help asking, it was his paranoid nature to assume that somehow, despite everything, it had all been in his head.

Credence nodded, very slow, but very sure, and actually nosed in again, nuzzling his cheek against Percival’s, threatening to make his very fragile heart explode.

He couldn’t possibly be the creature that had killed a man.

The cause of recent attacks attributed to someone else entirely.

He was so small, and thin, and sweet.

Just in need of care.

Percival would have to look into voice binding spells, counter-curses, and if the boy had been born without vocal cords, a way to see if that could be healed.

For the moment, he focused on the warm weight in his lap, and the lips nudging along his neck, wetly pressing, but not trying to leave a mark, for of course, his boy would have no idea about that.

He only knew what he wanted, very badly.

“Credence… may I touch you?”

The boy nodded, slowly, dreamily almost as if in a daze, and perhaps he was, overwhelmed by so much tactile sensation, for Percival didn’t know how else to do it, than scoop him up into his arms, and walk them somewhere much more comfortable.

His bedroom.

Credence clung to him tightly, and continued to kiss him, without a sound, and Percival gulped, before vanishing both his own shirt and the boy’s, allowing a bit more skin to skin contact, which  _ did _ elicit a sound, a surprised gasp, before he sat down in the middle of the bed.

“Forgive me, but I seem to recall letting you get away without healing your back, lie on your stomach for me, okay?”

Credence was blushing, color spreading rapidly from his cheeks down his neck and chest, but he nodded and then crawled up the bed, to do as he was told, keeping his hands fisted at his sides, peeking over at Percival as he got to his feet, and summoned a jar of healing salve from his bathroom.

The cuts on the boy’s lower back had healed on their own a little, but there were several new ones higher up, and it made Percival angry to see the clear mark of a belt buckle in his bruising.

Rubbing his hands together to warm the gel, he then carefully kneaded the medicine into the boy’s back, watching as the skin knit back together, and bruises became more faint.

A low hum of a moan escaped Credence’s lips, and it went straight to Percival’s cock, against his best efforts. The instant he drew his hand over the newly healed skin, the boy arched into the touch, and then shrunk away, only to grind his hips into the bed. It made him chuckle.

“Does that feel good, my boy?”

Credence nodded, appearing mindlessly lost in the pleasure of the sensation, and surely having never been injury free for long at home.

He dragged his hand back up to a creamy pale shoulder, and beyond, to ruffle the boy’s harsh haircut into something a bit more attractive.

Not that it took much to draw him back in, indeed, the boy sat up slowly, and then crawled towards him, completely unaware of his ability to turn Percival from a stern gentleman of the law to a besotted fool in a heartbeat.

“What would you like?”

Credence reached up for one of his bare biceps to anchor himself on, before leaning in to kiss him, a slower, lazier drag of lips against each other, and then he hummed, as Percival was helpless to keep his hands to himself, instead, he framed the boy’s hips with one on each side, and then slender arms wrapped about his neck, keeping him close.

He nearly fell onto the bed atop the boy, and groaned aloud when he felt the first grind of Credence’s hips up against his own.

“...”

No words could capture the thoughts running through his head at full speed, he suspected, but Credence shifted a hand to graze down his own side, and around to palm the front of his trousers, making his eyes snap open in shock.

“You don’t have to-”

A kiss stopped him dead in his tracks, his excuses and his pretending he didn’t  _ ache _ for it, as he let Credence nudge him off, and over to the side, onto his back, so that he could continue kissing Percival, but better rub his hand over him.

“Should I undo…”

A hum in the negative, and then Credence’s clever fingers were sliding the zip and snapping the button, reaching inside his underwear and grasping at his cock properly. He threw his head back against the pillow and a shameful noise escaped him, while the boy continued to touch him, and almost sounded like he was giggling.

It wasn’t what he’d planned, not at all.

He wanted to be kneeling beside the bed, driving the boy insane with just his mouth and a finger or two, but that would have to wait it seemed.

Credence pressed his lips to Percival’s right shoulder, and swiped his thumb through the slickness on the head of his cock, making his hips jerk up automatically, and his own hand fly up to brace at the back of the boy’s neck.

“Credence, much more of this and I’m afraid I’ll…”

There, a nibble of teeth on his skin, and a press of his tongue, and Percival’s vision actually went white, as he felt the boy’s hand grip a touch tighter, and his cock pulsed into it, making a mess inside his underwear. Percival fought to catch his breath, as the boy kissed and licked his way back to his mouth, before humming against it.

“Mercy Lewis. You’ve never done that before?”

A shrug.

He couldn’t be too jealous, for he suspected the boy only meant to himself, and that would be a rare thing, with a strict religious upbringing that he seemed to have.

Percival snapped his fingers and cleaned himself, before then waving a hand to remove the boy’s pants, sending them to be folded on the chair across the room. He didn’t squeak, but he did blink, wide eyed over at him, chest heaving, as his own cock curved against his stomach.

“Wow.”

Moving fast, yes, desperately wanted, very much so.

He needed that gorgeous cock in his mouth pronto. He didn’t say it, but he did put his hand to it, and watch the boy’s eyes flutter closed.

“Beautiful. You’re so lovely Credence.”

Another blush, and the boy looked near combustion, so he leaned in to kiss him, to ease the anticipation slightly, before stroking with more purpose, and shifting down, putting his mouth first to a budded nipple, and then to the soft skin of his stomach.

“...”

The boy’s cock twitched under Percival’s grasp, and spilled onto his stomach, long white ropes of come that almost reached up to his chest.

“Fuck.”

He looked up to find the boy hiding behind a hand, and he clicked his tongue,

“Hey, no. Don’t worry. I take it as a compliment. I didn’t even do much, and you’re already overwhelmed. Imagine if I’d gotten to taste you.”   
Credence’s hand clapped over his mouth as he goggled at Percival, who bit back a laugh, before running his hand through the mess on his skin, and putting a slippery finger to his lips.

“Next time.”

The boy shivered under the weight of his admiring gaze, and when he ducked down, unable to resist a broad lick over boy’s hip, feeling as he arched into it, using his mouth to clean him up properly, he reached over to tug a blanket atop them both, before shifting up to pull Credence flush against his chest.

“Get some sleep. Then I’ll make us both some dinner, hmm?”

Credence nodded, and cuddled close as possible, pressing a leg between his, and wrapping his arm around Percival’s back.

 

* * *

 

After some food, Credence seemed as if he’d completely recovered from whatever no-maj illness he’d been stricken with, and Percival felt comfortable enough to probe again, with the assurance of his wand nearby, he tried to reach out with a legilimency spell again.

Now, without things of a carnal nature completely clouding the boy’s mind, Percival could slip past the forefront, and look further, see into latent dreams, and recent memories, only to find several missing spots. He checked the dates, and slowly, one by one, they lined up with the accidents, the most recent being the same night as the senator’s death.

He tried to remain calm as he pulled out, and looked properly into the boy’s eyes, finding them dark, and curious.

“My boy… will you do me a favor?”

Credence didn’t hesitate before nodding, and it made his heart ache.

“Please, take this, and think of something that makes you happy, and visualize a light coming on.”

He handed over his wand, only shaking slightly, and Credence gaped at it, before carefully accepting it with both of his own.

The reaction was instantaneous. Before he could have possibly imagined anything, white light burst from the tip and nearly blinded Percival.

“Nox!”

Credence dropped the wand, which shot red sparks out the end, and Percival clapped a hand to his chest, before beaming at the boy.

“Credence! For god’s sake. You’re a wizard.”

The boy was wide eyed, and looking less thrilled than he’d expected, shaking his head and seemingly trying to speak, though no words came out.

Percival summoned his wand back in hand and instantly cast a ‘ _ Finite Incantatem’ _ over Credence, and was immediately accosted with sound.

“Mister Graves sir, you have to understand I can’t be, I couldn’t have magic, I’m just… I can talk!?”

He clapped a hand over his mouth, and Percival set his wand down in favor of pulling the boy into his arms, pressing a fierce kiss to his cheek.

“Of course you can. You’ve been placed under some kind of protective silencing charm. Perhaps intended for your own good. We may never know. How long has it been?”

Credence was trembling against his chest,

“Years, and years sir. I was able to cry like any other child, until I lost my mother.”

“That awful woman isn’t your birth mother?”

Credence shook his head,

“No sir, no she just adopted me at a young age.”

Percival was petting the back of the boy’s neck, fingers curling into the short hairs, trying to be of some comfort.

“Credence, you’ve got a very powerful magical ability. But I see there are missing points in your memory. Have you ever gone to sleep and then woken up in a strange place?”

 

As it turned out, he had.

Every time there had been an incident, it  _ had _ been when Credence lost control of his powers. Percival had to be very careful with the information, as he knew Picquery would not want to hear his findings, not without solid proof. Meanwhile, as the boy stayed with him, and improved every day in his health and a touch of hands on practice with magic, Percival almost wondered if the obscurus, for that was what it was, could ever wear off, or retreat fully.

There was almost no other research out there he could find, and he’d considered writing to an old friend for some advice, before the arrival of a suitcase full of strange and wild creatures, along with its owner, and his questions  _ did _ get answered.

But that’s another story.

 

* * *

**END**


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